


flower language gang

by sunnyjeno



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Florists, Just a cute fluffy story, Kun owns the flower shop, M/M, Sicheng is his assistant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 01:12:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16253597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyjeno/pseuds/sunnyjeno
Summary: Sicheng is curious about Kun's tattoos. Kun indulges him for a story.





	flower language gang

“...I think we need a break.”   
  


“Hm?” Kun looks up from his notepad, where he’s listing down possible filler foliage for this next order. The woman in in front of the counter is staring at him weirdly.

 

“I need a bouquet that sends the message ‘I love you, but I think we need a break.” She repeats, as if the repetition would somehow make her message less perplexing.

 

Kun sits there for a few seconds, nodding to himself, in thought. Of course, he could put it together; striped carnations, gladioli and maybe a purple hyacinth, not a pleasant combination in his opinion, but it was possible. He could, he really could. Or he could…

 

“While I am extremely honoured that you have turned to us for your floral needs, I don’t think this is a message you should say with flowers. My word of advice is that you talk honestly with this person, and then sort it out from there. But hey, if you need an apology bouquet after it, I’ll gladly do it.” Kun smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his ears, in the practiced motion that his assistant has begun to call his  _ annoying customer service smile  _ .

 

“Excuse me, I think you have no right to tell me how or what I should do. Isn’t your job just to make the damn flowers look nice?” The woman appears quite offended as she clutches her bag the ‘can I speak to the manager’ energy increasing by the millisecond. “You’re a very rude man. Just do the work, and I’ll pay you.”

 

Kun shakes his head, points to a sign behind him with the words ‘We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.’ written in chalk, and then delivers what had to be the smuggest shrug ever. “No can do, miss.”

 

The woman turns, mumbling something about  _ stupid tattooed florists who think they have a say in her relationship,  _ and leaves. Kun chuckles under his breath, thinking about how wonderfully this day started.

 

“Running more customers away, eh?” That’s Sicheng, Kun’s assistant florist and particularly annoying companion. “What was it now? A bouquet that said ‘sorry for screwing your wife, I thought you were gay?’ or… last time it was ‘would you let me suck your toes?’ man, why do you never get normal orders?”

 

Kun is about to give him a response somewhere along the lines of ‘with you working here, I doubt that is possible’, but Sicheng beats him to it once again. Kun seriously wonders where the quiet, reserved worker he had first hired went. Perhaps this was an alternative universe, and he had accidentally stepped in.

 

“You never actually told me about your tattoos, at all.” Sicheng is staring intently at the sleeves of flower tattoos that cover Kun’s skin, and he doesn’t even try to hide his curiosity. “Are you in some kind of gang?”

 

“What, you’ve never heard of the Flower Language Gang?” Sicheng shakes his head, and Kun sighs. “Thought so. Mainly because it doesn’t exist.”

 

“You didn’t have to make me look like a fool though.”

 

“I kinda did.”

 

“Anyways, stop deflecting the question and tell me about the tattoos,” Sicheng pauses, “Unless it’s extremely personal, in that case I don’t want to hear about it.”

 

“It is personal,” Sicheng groans and starts making his way to the potted plants, “but I can tell you.” And now he’s doing a three-sixty, staring excitedly at his boss.

“Close shop first, it’s a long story.” Kun orders him, and Sicheng (for once, if Kun may add) listens immediately.

 

“Am I still getting paid for this?” Sicheng grins as he sits down, both having moved to the break room of the flower shop.

 

“I should fire you just for asking that question.” Sicheng grins wider, and Kun can only roll his eyes. “Anyways, it all began three years ago…”

 

\--

 

It was early February, the perfect time to open a new flower shop, in Kun’s opinion. Valentine’s Day was just around the corner, and, being the only flower shop in the area, Kun was sure to enjoy a broad clientele. Lovers galore would walk into his store, begging for him to make them a bouquet that could express their ‘inexpressible feelings’ (which regularly only took Kun like three flowers, so really, how inexpressible could they be?), some would come to meet him about bouquets for proposals, and some, more soberly, to celebrate the life of a loved one, long gone.

 

It was then, amongst red, pink and white, that Kun first met Johnny. The tall man (inhumanly tall, in Kun’s opinion) had stumbled into the store, a day before Valentine’s day.

 

“Welcome to The Flower Kunnoisseur, I’m Kun, how may I help you?” That earned him a snort from the black haired male, who looked around the shop with childlike wonder, and something that looked slightly like mischief.

 

“Nice pun, Kun. I’m Johnny,” the tall man offered a hand, which Kun graciously shook, “and I’m looking to make my friend’s birthday one hell of a flowery business.”

 

Kun, who was just about ready to start offering suggestions for a love confession bouquet, halted immediately.

 

“Come again?”

 

To which Johnny laughed, and Kun would be damned if that wasn’t one of the most attractive laughs he’s heard.

 

“I’m sorry. My friend, Jaehyun, is coming to visit from America, and he’s been quite annoying lately, teasing me about being a hopeless romantic. That’s why, in true romantic nature, I’ve decided to gift him the most annoying bouquet ever.” Johnny explains.

 

“Well, that’s one I haven’t heard before. Although I have to admit, you’ve come in quite late. We’ve got orders by the dozen, all for tomorrow. I’m unsure I can help.” Kun almost feels bad when he watches Johnny’s expression fall.

 

“Oh, I expected so. You’re actually the third place I visit,” Johnny halts when he sees Kun’s expression, “N-not that I think you’re not a good florist, I just hadn’t seen this place before and—”

 

“I’ll help you.”

 

“You will?” Kun nods. “I thought you had a lot of work, and I really don’t want to impose for a silly joke.”

 

“I’m sure the orders can wait. If anything, I can whip up the same simple bouquets and they will still work.” Kun shrugs, “People like to overcomplicate their situations, when all it takes is a single rose.”

 

Johnny smiles brightly, and though Kun knows he’s going to regret this the next morning when he’s swarmed in work, right now, things seem pretty well.

 

The morning after, Kun is indeed swarmed with orders, and he really wishes he had an assistant to help him handle the flowery disaster. Bouquets fly off his hands and into the hands of loved ones, a curious delivery system where the messenger is also the sender. It isn’t until six p.m. that he gets a chance to rest, and only then does he check his messages to see a smiling Johnny with a mortified young man next to him, probably Jaehyun. The message below reads,  _ ‘He absolutely despised it, you iconic man you, now that I’ve sent you the proof we agreed on, may I ask you out to some coffee, as a thank you?’ _

 

\--

 

Sicheng interrupts Kun’s story, elbowing him teasingly.

 

“Look at you, getting a man. Who would have known your evil-doings could attract someone?”

 

Kun rolls his eyes and continues the story.

 

\--

 

From then on, Kun’s morning’s at the flower shop were accompanied by a charming black haired man, who turned out, was a very talented art-handler at the local gallery. Johnny would deliver coffee to Kun every morning, stay for an hour or so, and then leave for work. Then, at lunch time, he would call Kun, and they would agree on a place so they could eat together. Finally, at closing time, Johnny would wait outside Kun’s shop as the latter closed, and then they would walk the silent streets, sharing a kiss or two, to Kun’s small apartment, where they would have dinner together, and then relax on his couch, watching some sappy movie that Johnny recommended.

 

“You know what? Jaehyun was right,” Kun started one morning, when Johnny had decided to stay over. “You’re a hopeless romantic. Sweeping me off my feet with no effort.”

Johnny delivers a sleepy kiss on Kun’s nose, a nose he had described as ‘sculpted by Donatello himself,’ and then speaks, voice grave and smooth from having just woken up, “You’re belittling my efforts. I even researched the perfect flower to confess to you.”

 

And he had done so, indeed. After a few dates it was obvious they were both very much in love, but neither had taken a step forward and asked the other out. 

 

That was until, during one particular dinner, Johnny placed a single rose in the center table vase.

 

“A purple rose. From my own shop, too. I didn’t think you a shoplifter, John.” Kun smiles, but there’s an undeniable blush coloring his cheeks. “Do you know the meaning of it?”

 

Johnny nods, with that same bright smile that had enchanted Kun the first time they met. “Enchantment and love at first sight. This may be the hopeless romantic in me speaking,” he makes a point of interlacing his fingers with Kun’s own, “but I didn’t believe in love at first sight until I met you. So would you do both of us silly old men a favor, and get together with me at once?”

 

Kun nods, and once they finish eating, peppers Johnny’s face with countless kisses.

 

\--

 

“Okay, first of all, that is disgustingly cute, I detest you,” Sicheng rolls his eyes to emphasize his point, “but why haven’t I met Johnny? Are you hiding your wonder man from me?”

 

Kun laughs shaking his head, and runs his fingers over the purple rose on his arm. “He left six months later. Jaehyun came back with good news, apparently someone in America saw Johnny’s potential and wanted to hire him. I think he’s working at the MET now… it’s been a while since we talked.

 

“But you still tattooed yourself with his memory, I don’t understand.” Sicheng stares at the flower too, confused.

 

“I want to remember the feeling of love at first sight. Of feeling like I was living on one of his sappy romantic movies. The purple rose always brings that memory to me.”

 

“So what, does that mean every other tattoo is a reference to some fling you’ve had? Because that’s a bit promiscuous if you ask me.” Sicheng whispers the last part, like there might be someone listening in.

 

And gets promptly wacked in the head by Kun.

 

“Maybe that’ll put your brain cells back in place. No, not every flower is a romantic relationship. Some are friendships that I’ve kept for years. One is for my mom, who taught me to take care of nature, so it could take care of me too. A few are reminders to myself, kind of a cheer up bouquet that is permanent.” Kun explains.

 

“Am I there?” Sicheng asks, because him and Kun have been friends for the past two years and he’d be a tiny bit hurt if he weren’t.

 

“I’ve had a hard time figuring out which flower, but I think I may just get a nut.”

 

“Isn’t that…”

 

“Stupidity, yeah. Perfect for you, huh?” Kun chuckles, ducking away when Sicheng attempts to throw him a pillow from the couch. They both laugh, and Sicheng is sure he catches Kun staring at the blue violet on his left arm.

 

_ I’ll always be there for you too, Kun. _


End file.
